Days After

There’s a stranger in my home. She sits across from me at the dining table, ravenously devouring the food I cooked for her. My arms remain rigid, fingers tightening around the handle of the fork and knife in my hands.

The food in front of me grows cold, my eyes never leaving her sight. “Where did you say you were from again?”

She doesn’t look up from her plate, inhaling her food like it’s the first real meal she has eaten in months. Which probably isn’t too far off from being true.

The woman lifts her head up, leaning back against her chair, and lets out a loud burp. “Man, that was delicious. That was exactly what I needed.”

I chuckle. “It’s the least I could do. Especially after you saved my ass back there.”

She waves me off. “You would’ve done the same for me, right?”

“To be honest, I don’t think I would.”

Her smile fades, eyes falling to the blade in my hand. She scoots back, standing up, and throwing up her hands in the air. “Listen man, I don’t want any trouble. I was just passing through. I will be on my way now.”

“Where are you headed?”

“What’s it matter to you?”

“Just curious.”

“North. I was separated from my daughter back in Boston. My mother was babysitting when shit hit the fan. I haven’t been able to contact them since.

“What makes you think they went North?” My grip loosens on the knife, but my hand never leaves its side. “You’re a long way from home. Is your husband with them?”

She scoffs. “I was never married. Even though I wish I was. Back when my ex and I were dating, we used to go up to North Conway to stay in their log cabin. I have a feeling they went there to wait out this virus that’s spreading.”

“What makes you so confident?”

“Because they have to be…” she pauses, her body shuddering as she takes in a breath. “They need to be. There’s nowhere else they would go.”

“I’ll go with you. It’s not too far from here.” I say, pushing myself up to stand. Pain shoots up my left leg, causing me to wince and grit my teeth.

Her eyes go wide. “Oh, my god. Are you okay? What happened?”

“Don’t worry. It’s merely a flesh wound.”

“Okay, Month Python,” she snickers. “When did you get that? You didn’t get bit, did you?”

“Nah, I got it when you pulled me out of the wreck. Tried to wrap it myself when we returned.”

“Well, you didn’t do a good enough job.”

“I guess so.” I scratch the back of my neck.

“Sit down. Let me look at it.”

I do as I’m told, dropping back onto the chair. She comes around, rolling up my pant leg.

The pain is excruciating, I have to bite on my tongue.

Once it gets to my shin, she reveals the bandage wrap around my leg.

“Geez, it’s soaking through. You’re lucky I know how to fix it. Where are your medical supplies?”

I point into the hallway. “In the closet right next to the bathroom.”

She walks over, rummaging through, coming back after a few minutes. “Any sewing supplies?”

“In my parents’ bedroom.”

She freezes. “Your parents? Are they still alive?”

I shake my head. “ Nah. Buried them in the back under the big oak. Long before the virus began to spread and reanimate the corpses.”

“Jesus,” she says. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s quite all right.” I give her a sad smile.

She shifts her weight from one foot to another. “Can I ask how they died?”

I take a deep breath. “Old age. My father passed first. Then, my mother died soon after from a broken heart.”

The woman walks over to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “That’s awful, but at least they lived a long and happy life, right?”

I smile. “Yeah, they did. I envied their love for each other. Now I take care of the farm all by myself.”

“How sweet,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “Did you ever get married or have any children?”

“Nah,” I say. “I wanted kids, but never met the right woman. I guess my chances are even slimmer now.”

“Unless you’re into the undead,” she jabs.

“That’s disgusting.” I push her.

She shoves me back. “Don’t worry. You’ll meet the right one soon. Besides, those other girls missed out on such a good catch.”

I snort. “You really think so?”

“Of course," the woman winks, pointing at my leg. “Now, let’s stitch you back up.”

She walks away, returning moments later with what she needs in hand. Setting down a sewing needle, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a small roll of dental floss on the table.

Opening the bottle, she tilts it into a cotton ball. “This is going to hurt. You might want to bite down on something.”

I take off my shirt.

“Whoa, dude. At least, ask me out on a date first.” She says.

I snicker. Can’t tell if she is serious or not, but I play along anyway. “Oh, stop. I’m not that good-looking.”

She puts a hand on her hip with a grin. “If you say so. I know your game.”

I roll my eyes, twisting up the cloth. It goes around my head, tying a knot behind my head, and bite down.

She approaches, kneeling down next to me. “You ready?”

I nod.

With that, she dabs the cotton on the wound.

I tense, involuntarily making a noise with my mouth. The pain is worse than before. Like she set fire to that specific point of my leg.

After cleaning it as best as she could, she loops some dental floss through the needle’s head. “Now for the hard part.” She stares at me. “Want to take a break?”

“Just do it,” I say, my voice all muffled.

She works quickly, the needle going in as soon as I know it.

The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. But I clench my jaw and power through. Every time she sews it in, I scream into the shirt.

She finishes, tying and cutting it. “That should hold. But once it’s healed, I’m going to have to take it out.”

I groan, spitting out the shirt. “Thanks. I guess I’ll have something to look forward to then.”

She laughs, bandaging my leg back up with a fresh wrap. “Yup. But I can’t wait around until then. I have to go find Ayla.”

I release myself, spitting out my shirt. “Is that your daughter’s name?”

She looks at me, lips curling up. “Yeah.”

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

“Thanks, I thought so too.”

***

Three days later, we’re packing our things. My leg feels mostly better now, but still sore when I walk around. As I’m leaving my room, I stop at the dresser with my backpack slung over my shoulder. The picture of my family sits on top. Mom and Pops with me in the middle.

“You have your mother’s eyes,” comes a voice from behind.

I jump, my heart leaping into my throat. Glancing over my shoulder, I find the woman standing in the doorway. I would’ve thought she had left by now, but part of me feels like she doesn’t want to go alone. I don’t blame her. It’s dangerous out there.

She enters the room, walking over to me. “They must’ve been so proud of you.”

“They were, “ I sniff. “They always wanted what was best for me.”

“Take it with you,” she says. “You can’t leave something like that behind.”

“Why?” I raise an eyebrow. “It’s not like I won’t come back.”

“True.” She elbows me. “But maybe you will change your mind and stay with us at the cabin.”

“I can’t. I have to care for the farm. But I will at least walk you to the door.”

“Fine.” She pouts.

At the front door of the house, I holster my handgun, tuck a knife in a strap on my right leg, and hang a metal bat from my backpack.

“Into baseball?” The woman points.

I shrug. “My Pops was. Found this one when I was scavenging. Figured it would be useful.”

“I suppose,” she replies.

“You’ll see,” I open the door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

The woman goes down the steps without another word, into the front yard.

I follow her out, turning my head for one last look into my home. “Be back soon,” I say, closing the door behind me.

***

We decided it was best to take the main road up. Much safer than taking any other path. Leaving my hometown of Freedom, New Hampshire, wouldn't be easy. I would have to say goodbye to my house, Pepe’s house, and my old schoolhouse. Gas went dry sometime last year, so we’re walking. Ten miles on Route 153, and my feet are already starting to ache. But I continue on. Hundreds of cars remain abandoned on the road. Some are still fully intact, while others are burned to a crisp. A pile of bodies is stacked up next to one of them. What used to be skin and bones has now turned to charcoal.

I double over, catching my breath, and look up at the woman ahead of me. “You know. You never told me your name.”

She spins around, walking backwards. “Well, you never asked.”

“Fair enough,” I wince, standing back up. “So, what's your name?”

She scoffs. “As if I’m going to tell you. You tell me yours.”

“Oh, no. That’s not how this works. I asked you first.”

“I pulled you out of that car and sewed up your leg.” She jabs a finger at me. “I saved your life. The least you can do is give me the common courtesy of sharing your name.”

“Oh, yeah? I brought you into my home, fed you dinner, and gave you a bed to sleep in. You want to play this game? I can play this ga—.”

A collection of growls comes from behind me, interrupting me. I can see the woman’s eyes grow wide with panic. “Oh, my god. Run.” She shouts and starts to book it in the opposite direction.

I don’t have to look back to know what’s on our tail. I begin to run, limping as fast as I can. Don’t look back. My breath comes in short gasps, heart pounding against my rib cage. The woman is nowhere to be seen. Where the hell did she go?

I power through. I can’t give up. Not yet. Maybe I can look back. Maybe it’s not that many. I can probably take them on.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see the horde following not too far behind. There’s hundreds of them. I'm so screwed. My right foot hits something, and I stumble forward. My left leg comes down hard as I try to balance. Pain explodes up into my spine. The world tilts on its axis, and I fall to the ground. My shoulder hits the asphalt hard. I cry out. A hand grabs at me. I throw it off. I reach down, pulling out the knife on my leg. Swinging it toward the arm, I miss, but my whole body rolls toward it. That’s when I see it's the woman, hiding under a car. Her eyes stare at the blade for a second before she grabs at me again. That was close. She gets a grip on my backpack strap and pulls me under with her, covering my mouth with her hand, holding a finger to my lips.

We wait. The horde has approached. I watch as their feet shuffle by. Most limping and scooting forward. Sweat trickles down my cheek, blood pumping in my ears. This is it. This is how we die. But the horde continues as if we’re not there. Oblivious that we are right under their nose.

Once the last of them has passed by, and the woman checks that the coast is clear, she removes her hand from my mouth.

“You almost stabbed me.” She spits out.

I scoff. “Well, what would you do if a random hand was grabbing you? As far as I know, you could have been one of those things. I thought you left me behind.”

“I wouldn’t do that. You know that.”

“How was I supposed to know? I barely know anything about you.” I shout.

The world grows silent. We lay there for a while. Too afraid to move from our cover.

She sighs. “My name is Jacquelyn. But you can call me Jackie.”

I frown. “You don't look like a Jackie. More like a Sam or Emily.”

She laughs, pushing me. “Shut up. It’s true.”

I reach out my hand. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jackie. I’m Spencer.”

She takes my hand in hers, shaking it. “A pleasure.”

***

After we rolled out from under the car, the rest of the trip wasn’t much trouble. We ran into some roamers, but it was easy enough to handle. I got to show Jackie the power of the bat by swinging it at their heads and watching them spin until they fall to the ground. It took us about 2 days to walk up, taking a rest in the village store. I made us a delicious dinner of cold canned soup. I got to learn a lot about Jackie on the way. We had more in common than I thought we would. She loves reading the same kind of books, listening to the same music, and watching the same movies. You know, common things. But also little things too. Like the way she laughs. She’s got a great sense of humor, laughing with a snort when she does it too much. I never met anyone else who could.

“You laugh like me.” I would say.

“No, I don’t,” she would argue back, then laugh. I would join soon after.

She also has a bad sweet tooth. We broke into Zeb’s General Store and ate candy until our bellies hurt.

“You got chocolate on your face,” I say.

“Really? Where?” She wets her finger, rubbing at it.

“Did I get it?”

“No, a little more to the left.”

“Here?”

“Let me.” I smile, wiping her face. “Got it.”

“Thanks,” she returns a glance.

***

Walking up a steep hill, I can see a log cabin come into view. It’s smaller than expected, but its got this cute and cozy feel to it.

“This is it,” Jackie says.

“Let’s hope they’re here,” I say.

We take the steps up to the front door. Jackie knocks. But no one comes to the door or window. She puts her ear up to the wood. “I don't hear anything,” she whispers. Minutes go by, and all I can hear is the wind and the trees rustling.

“Maybe they’re hiding?” I suggest. “Is there a way we can tell if anyone is home?”

This sparks something in Jackie’s brain. “Ayla and I used to have a special knock when we lived with my ex. It was a way to tell each other who was at the door.”

She knocks it in a specific rhythmic pattern. Five times and then twice more. Still nothing.

She huffs out a breath. “Where are they?”

“Maybe they went somewhere else?” I say.

“No, they have to be. They need to be.” She tries again, doing the same exact pattern. Silence.

“Look, we can’t stand out here all day. Maybe we should break in.” I take the bat in my hands.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Let’s at least go inside. It’s getting late.” She moves out of the way. “Swing away.”

I grip the handle, swinging hard. But the door opens as I do. I stumble forward, although this time Jackie catches me before I hit the floor. When we both look down to see who opened it. A little girl stands far back, gun raised.

“Ayla?” Jackie calls out.

“Mom?” the girl responds. She drops her weapon, running toward us. I step to the side, and the girl continues until she collides with her mother. They embrace, spinning around in a circle.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Jackie says, her eyes welling up with tears.

“I’m here mommy. I’m here.”

Jackie pulls back. “Look at how big you are. And how brave you’ve become.”

Another woman enters the room. “You got that right. She’s tough like her own grandma.”

“Mom,” Jackie smiles.

They all hug in a trio. I stand there awkwardly, watching this reunion take place.

Her mom notices me. “And who’s this handsome fella? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“This is Spencer,” Jackie says. “He’s the one who helped me get here.”

“Is that so?” she says.

“Your daughter is selling herself short,” I say. “She’s the one who saved my life twice in the same week. I should be thanking her.”

“Well, c’mon now.” She holds her arms open. “You’re part of this family as much as anyone else.”

I smile, walking over and entering the pile. Hugging them all tightly.

A warmth fills my chest, a feeling I haven’t felt in a very long time.

***

Jackie and I sit on the couch. She's hunched over, removing the stitches from my leg.

I can only watch, wincing every so often. “You know, I have to head back to the farm soon.”

She frowns, looking up at me. “Will I ever see you again?”

“Maybe,” I shrug. “I’m not too far down the road. Besides, I haven’t had the chance to take you out on a date yet.”

“Spencer,” she gushes. “Are you asking me out?”

I smile. “To be honest, I don’t think I wouldn’t.”